Steamm and Steamminess
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: This should be part of my Lessons and Games series. However...This is, obviously, for the STEAMM event. Rather than try to write in Miss Austen's style, I have *severely* edited her original text: even I was surprised by how accurately her characters fitted those we love in the STEAMM fandoms. Apart from Sybil's story every word here is hers. I've just steered them a bit.
1. Chapter 1

_5. __Jane Austen_

_**Synopsis**_

Mrs Cora Crawley and her three daughters are thrown out of Downton, the house of her deceased husband, because it is entailed to the next male heir: a distant cousin of a spineless disposition called Mr Alfred Crawley. Mr Crawley and his snobbish, shrewish wife, Sarah, come to live at Downton before Mrs Crawley can move out. Mrs Crawley's brother, Mr Matthew Ferrars also comes to stay. The eldest daughter, Mary, has formed a strong affectionate alliance with Matthew before they leave to take a cottage offered to them by one of their neighbours: Sir Charles Carson and his wife Lady Elsie.

Colonel Anthony Strallan, a good friend of Sir Charles's, meets Miss Edith Crawley, the middle daughter, at Sir Charles's house. She was playing the piano at the time. For him it was love at first sight, but, alas, not for her. She only has eyes for the dashing Mr. Gregson whom she meets when she and her youngest sister, Sybil, are out walking and they are overtaken by a storm. She takes a fall spraining her ankle and Mr. Gregson carries her home.

Meanwhile, Miss Sybil, the youngest, has fallen in love with one of Sir Anthony's stable-hands, Tom Branson.

* * *

.

The family of Crawley had long been settled in Yorkshire. Their estate was large; their residence was at Downton Abbey. By a former marriage, Mr. Robert Crawley had one son: by his present lady, three daughters. The son was amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, and the estate was entailed upon the male line. His sisters' fortune could be but small; since their mother, who had been born and bred in the colonies, had nothing.

Before he died, Mr. Robert recommended the interest of Mrs. Cora Crawley and her daughters to his son, but, although Mr. Alfred was not an ill-disposed man, he was easily swayed by the arguments of Mrs. Sarah Crawley, who was a strong caricature of himself, but more narrow-minded and selfish.

No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. Alfred Crawley, without sending any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law, arrived with their attendants. Mrs. Alfred Crawley had never been a favourite with any of her husband's family; but she had had no opportunity, till now, of showing them with how little attention to the comfort of other people she could act when she wished it.

Mary, the eldest daughter, possessed a strength of understanding, and a coolness of judgment. She had an excellent heart and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them.

Edith's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Mary's. She was sensible, practical, and clever; but eager in everything having felt Mary's shadow over her all the days of her childhood, and, she feared, all the days of her life.

Sybil, the other sister, was a good-humoured, well-disposed girl; eager and fearless, with nothing but sweetness for all who met her.

Thus Mrs. Alfred Crawley installed herself mistress of Downton; Cora and her daughters were degraded to the condition of visitors. Alfred pressed them to consider Downton as their home; his invitation was accepted, and Mrs. Crawley remained at Downton several months. When her spirits began to revive, she became impatient to be gone, and looked for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Downton.

The contempt which Cora had felt for her daughter-in-law was much increased by closer knowledge of her character; the two ladies might have found it impossible to have lived together so long, had not a particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, according to the opinions of Mrs. Crawley, to her daughters' continuance at Downton.

This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl and the brother of Mrs. Alfred Crawley, a gentleman-like and pleasing young man, who was introduced to their acquaintance soon after his sister's establishment at Downton.

Mr. Matthew Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died rich; but for Mrs. Crawley it was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Mary returned the partiality. It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should keep any couple asunder who were attracted each to the other.

Matthew Ferrars was too diffident to do justice to himself but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to be what his mother and sister wished, which was to enter into parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day. But Matthew had no turn for parliament or great men. All his wishes centred in the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.

"I think it a pity, Mary," said Edith, "that Matthew should have no taste for drawing."

"No taste for drawing!" replied Mary, "why should you think so? He does not draw himself, but he has great pleasure in seeing the performances of other people, and he is not deficient in taste. Had he had such tutorage as we did, I think he would have drawn very well."

Edith was afraid of offending, and said no more on the subject; but she honoured her sister for her partiality to Matthew that produced such a defence.

"Do not be offended, Mary, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable."

"Some people may not call him handsome," continued Mary, "until they apprehend the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the general sweetness of his countenance. I think him really handsome; what say you, Edith?"

"I shall very soon think him handsome, Mary, when you tell me to love him as a brother."

Mary started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth she had betrayed in speaking of him. Matthew stood very high in her opinion. She believed the regard to be mutual; but she required greater certainty of it to confirm Edith's conviction of their attachment. She tried to explain the real state of the case to her sister.

"I do not attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of him—that I greatly esteem him, that I like him."

Edith here burst forth with indignation—

"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Mary! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment."

Mary could not help laughing. "Be assured," said she; " that I meant no offence to you by speaking in so quiet a way of my feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared. But farther than this you must not believe. There are other points to be considered besides his inclination. He is very far from being independent. What his mother really is we cannot know; but, from Sarah's occasional mention of her opinions, I doubt she is amiable; and I believe Matthew himself is aware that there would be many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish to marry a woman who had neither a great fortune nor high rank."

Edith was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother and herself had outstripped the truth.

"And you really are not engaged to him!" said she. "Yet it certainly soon will happen."

Mary had given her real opinion to her sister. She could not consider her partiality for Matthew in so prosperous a state as Edith had believed it. Nay, the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few painful minutes, she believed it to be no more than friendship.

But whatever it might be, it was enough, when perceived by his sister, to make her uneasy and uncivil. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law, talking to her so expressively of her brother's great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars's resolution that he should marry well, and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to marry him for fortune alone; that Mrs. Crawley could not endeavour to be calm. She marked her contempt, and instantly resolved that, whatever might be the inconvenience or expense of so sudden a removal, her beloved Mary should not be exposed another week to such insinuations.

It was then that a letter was delivered to her, which contained a proposal particularly well timed. It was the offer of a house belonging to a relation of hers. He understood that she was in need of a dwelling; and offered her this cottage. He seemed really anxious to accommodate them. She needed no time for deliberation or inquiry. Her resolution was formed as she read. She instantly wrote Sir Charles Carson her acknowledgment of his kindness, and her acceptance of his proposal.

No sooner was her answer dispatched, than Mrs. Crawley indulged herself in the pleasure of announcing to her son-in-law and his wife that she was provided with a house, and should incommode them no longer. They heard her with surprise. Mrs. Alfred Crawley said nothing; but her husband civilly hoped that she would not be settled far from Downton. She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going to the west of the county—Matthew turned hastily towards her, on hearing this, and, in a voice of surprise and concern, which required no explanation to her, repeated, "Are you going so far from hence!?"

She offered a very affectionate invitation to Mr. Matthew Crawley to visit her at Barton. Mr. Alfred Crawley told his mother how exceedingly sorry he was that she had taken a house at such a distance from Downton as to prevent his being of any service to her in removing her furniture, which included a handsome pianoforte of Edith's.

In a very few weeks, every thing was settled in their future abode as to enable Mrs. Crawley and her daughters to begin their journey.


	2. Chapter 2

Barton Cottage was a pleasant spot. A small green court was in front; and as a house, though small, it was comfortable. The situation of the house was good. High hills rose immediately behind, some of which were open downs. Soon, they were busy in arranging their few belongings, and endeavouring, by placing around them books and other possessions, to form themselves a home. Edith's pianoforte was unpacked and Mary's drawings were affixed to the walls of their sitting room.

They were interrupted next day by their landlord, who called to welcome them to Barton. Sir Charles Carson was a good looking man about fifty. His countenance was thoroughly good-humoured; and his manners were friendly. He pressed them to dine at Barton Park every day till they were better settled at home. His kindness was not confined to words; for within an hour, a large basket of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park, which was followed by a present of game.

Lady Carson had sent a very civil message by him, denoting her intention of waiting on Mrs. Crawley as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be no inconvenience; and as this message was answered by an invitation equally polite, her ladyship was introduced to them the next day. Lady Carson's face was handsome, her figure tall and striking, and her address graceful. Her manners had all the elegance which her husband's wanted

Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage. The house was large and handsome; and the Carsons lived in a style of equal hospitality and elegance. They were scarcely ever without some friends staying with them in the house. Lady Carson piqued herself upon the elegance of her table; but Sir Charles's satisfaction in society was much more real; he delighted in collecting about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier they were the better was he pleased.

The arrival of a new family in that part of the county was always a matter of joy to him, and he was charmed with the Miss Crawleys who were young, pretty, and unaffected, which was enough to secure his good opinion.

Mrs. Crawley and her daughters were met at the door of the house by Sir Charles, who welcomed them to Barton Park with unaffected sincerity. They would see, he said, only one gentleman there besides himself; a particular friend staying at the park, but who was neither very young nor very merry. Luckily Lady Carson's mother, Mrs. Jennings, had arrived at Barton within the last hour, and as she was a cheerful agreeable woman, who talked a great deal, seemed very happy, and rather vulgar. She was full of jokes, and before dinner was over had said many witty things on the subject of lovers and husbands; hoped they had not left their hearts behind them in Downton, and pretended to see them blush whether they did or not. Edith was vexed at it for her sister's sake, and turned her eyes towards Mary to see how she bore these attacks, with an earnestness which gave Mary far more pain than could arise from such common-place raillery as Mrs. Jennings's.

Colonel Strallan, the friend of Sir Charles, was quiet, gentle and polite. His appearance was not unpleasing, in spite of his being in the opinion of Edith and Sybil an absolute old bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of five and thirty; but his address was particularly gentlemanlike.

In the evening, as Edith was discovered to be musical, she was invited to play. The instrument was unlocked, every body prepared to be charmed, and Edith, who played very well, at their request went through some of the new music from the continent.

Edith's performance was highly applauded. Sir Charles was loud in his admiration at the end of every piece, and as loud in his conversation with the others while every piece lasted. Lady Carson frequently called him to order, loudly. Colonel Strallan alone, of all the party, heard her without being in outward raptures. He paid her the compliment of absolute attention; and she felt a respect for him because of it. His pleasure in music was estimable when contrasted against the horrible insensibility of the others.

Mrs. Jennings had only two daughters, both of whom she had married off respectably, and she had now therefore nothing to do but to marry all the rest of the world. In the promotion of this object she was zealously active, and very soon decisively pronounced that Colonel Strallan was very much in love with Edith Crawley. She rather suspected it to be so, on the very first evening of their being together, from his listening so attentively while she played to them; and when the visit was returned by the Carsons' dining at the cottage, the fact was ascertained by his listening to her again. It must be so. She was perfectly convinced of it. It would be an excellent match, for HE was rich, and SHE was handsome.

The immediate advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable, for it supplied her with endless jokes against them both. At the park she laughed at the Colonel, and in the cottage at Edith. To the former her raillery was probably, as far as it regarded only himself, perfectly indifferent; but to the latter she hardly knew whether most to laugh at its absurdity, or censure its impertinence, for she considered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel's advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor.

Mrs. Crawley could not think a man five years younger than herself so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter.

"But at least, Mama, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation. Colonel Strallan is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is old enough to be MY father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must have long outlived every sensation of the kind."

"Infirmity!" said Mary, "do you call Colonel Strallan infirm? I suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to Mama; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs!"

"Mama, you are not doing me justice. I know very well that Colonel Strallan is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature. He may live twenty years longer! But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony."

"Perhaps," said Mary, "thirty-five and seventeen had better not have any thing to do with matrimony together. But if there should by any chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty, I should not think Colonel Strallan's being thirty-five any objection to his marrying HER."

"A woman of seven and twenty," said Edith, after pausing a moment, "can never hope to feel or inspire affection again. I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to the offices of a NURSE, for the sake of the provision and security of being a wife. In his marrying such a woman therefore there would be nothing unsuitable. It would be a compact of convenience. In my eyes it would be no marriage at all."

"It would be impossible, I know," replied Mary, "to convince you that a woman of seven and twenty could feel for a man of thirty-five anything near enough to love, to make him a desirable companion to her. But I must object to your dooming Colonel Strallan and his fictional wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber."

Soon after this, upon Mary's leaving the room, "Mama," said Edith, "I have an alarm on the subject of illness which I cannot conceal from you. I am sure Matthew Ferrars is not well. We have now been here almost a fortnight, and yet he does not come. Nothing but real indisposition could occasion this extraordinary delay. What else can detain him at Downton?"

"Had you any idea of his coming so soon?" said Mrs. Crawley. "Does Mary expect him already?"

"I have never mentioned it to her, but of course she must."

"I think you are mistaken, for when I was talking to her yesterday of getting a new grate for the spare bedchamber, she observed that there was no immediate hurry for it, as it was not likely that the room would be wanted for some time."

"How strange! What can be the meaning of it! But the whole of their behaviour to each other has been unaccountable! How cold, how composed were their last adieus! How languid their conversation the last evening of their being together! Even now her self-command is invariable. When is she ever dejected or melancholy?"

* * *

The Crawleys were now settled at Barton with tolerable comfort to themselves. Their visitors, except those from Barton Park, were not many. But the whole country about them abounded in beautiful walks. The high downs invited them from almost every window of the cottage; and towards one of these hills did Edith and Sybil one memorable morning direct their steps, attracted by the partial sunshine of a showery sky and they ascended the downs.

"Is there a felicity in the world," said Edith, "superior to this?—Sybil, we will walk here at least two hours."

Sybil agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, when suddenly the clouds united over their heads, and a driving rain set full in their face. They were obliged to turn back, running with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which led immediately to their garden gate.

Edith led, but a false step brought her suddenly to the ground; and Sybil, unable to stop herself to assist her, was involuntarily hurried along, and reached the bottom in safety.

A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him, was passing up the hill and within a few yards of Edith, when her accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She had raised herself from the ground, but her foot had been twisted in her fall, and she was scarcely able to stand. The gentleman offered his services; and perceiving that her modesty declined what her situation rendered necessary, took her up in his arms without farther delay, and carried her down the hill. Passing through the garden, he bore her directly into the house, whither Sybil was just arrived, and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour.

Mary and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance, and while the eyes of both were fixed on him with a wonder and an admiration which sprung from his appearance, he apologized for his intrusion by relating its cause, in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, received additional charms from his voice and expression. Mrs. Crawley thanked him again and again; and, begged to know to whom she was obliged. His name, he replied, was Gregson, and his present home was at Allenham, from whence he hoped she would allow him the honour of calling tomorrow to enquire after Miss Crawley. The honour was readily granted, and he departed.

His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration. Edith herself had seen enough of him to join in all the admiration of the others, and with an energy. His person and air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story; and in his carrying her into the house with so little previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought which particularly recommended the action to her. Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting. His name was good, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming. Her imagination was busy, her reflections were pleasant, and the pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded.

Sir Charles called on them as soon as the next interval of fair weather allowed him to; and Edith's accident being related to him, he was eagerly asked whether he knew any gentleman of the name of Gregson at Allenham.

"Gregson!" cried Sir Charles; "what, is HE in the country? That is good news; I will ride over tomorrow, and ask him to dinner."

"You know him then," said Mrs. Crawley.

"Know him! to be sure I do. Why, he is down here every year."

"And what sort of a young man is he?"

"As good a kind of fellow as ever lived, I assure you. A very decent shot, and there is not a bolder rider in England."

"And is that all you can say for him?" cried Edith, indignantly. "But what are his manners on more intimate acquaintance? What his pursuits, opinions, and interests?"

Sir Charles was rather puzzled.

"Upon my soul," said he, "I do not know much about him as to all THAT. But he is a pleasant, good humoured fellow, and has got the nicest little black bitch of a pointer I ever saw. Was she out with him today?"

Edith could no more satisfy him as to the colour of Mr. Gregson's pointer, than he could describe to her the shades of his mind.

"But who is he?" said Mary. "Where does he come from? Has he a house at Allenham?"

On this point Sir Charles could give more certain intelligence; Mr. Gregson had no property of his own in the county; that he resided there only while he was visiting the old lady at Allenham Court, to whom he was related, and whose possessions he was to inherit; adding, "Yes, he is well worth catching I can tell you, Miss Crawley; he has a pretty estate of his own in Somersetshire besides; and if I were you, I would not give him up to your younger sister, in spite of all this tumbling down hills. Miss Edith must not expect to have all the men to herself. Strallan will be jealous, if she does not take care."

"I am glad to find," said Mrs. Crawley, "that he is a respectable young man, and one whose acquaintance will not be ineligible."

"He is as good a sort of fellow as ever lived," repeated Sir Charles. "I remember last Christmas at a little hop at the park, he danced from eight o'clock till four, without once sitting down."

"Did he indeed?" cried Edith with sparkling eyes, "and with elegance, with spirit?"

"Yes; and he was up again at eight to ride."

"That is what I like; that is what a young man ought to be."

"I see how it will be," said Sir Charles, "You will be setting your cap at him now, and never think of poor Strallan. You will make conquests enough, one way or other. Poor Strallan! He is quite smitten already, and he is very well worth setting your cap at, I can tell you."


	3. Chapter 3

_**You all know what I think of Dregson. But in order to be the villain of the piece, he has to be charming enough to enamour Edith.**_

* * *

_._

Edith's preserver, as Sybil, with more elegance than precision, styled Gregson, called at the cottage next morning to make his enquiries. He was received with more than politeness.

Miss Mary Crawley had regular features and a remarkably pretty figure. But in his opinion, Edith was still handsomer. Her skin was creamy, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, which could hardly be seen without delight. When she heard him declare, that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to herself for the rest of his stay.

They discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual. She proceeded to question him on the subject of books. Their taste was strikingly alike. The same books, the same passages were idolized by each.

"Well, Edith," said Mary, as soon as he had left, "for ONE morning I think you have done pretty well. You have ascertained Mr. Gregson's opinion in almost every matter of importance. But how is your acquaintance to be long supported? You will soon have exhausted every topic. Another meeting will suffice to explain his sentiments on what you did not discuss today, and then you can have nothing farther to talk about."

"Mary," cried Edith, "is this fair? But I see what you mean. I have erred against every notion of decorum; I have been open and sincere where I ought to have been reserved and dull as you would be."

"My darling," said her mother, "you must not be offended with Mary—she was only in jest." Edith was softened in a moment.

Gregson, on his side, gave every proof of his pleasure in their acquaintance. He came every day. He was a young man of good abilities, lively spirits, and open manners. He was exactly formed to engage Edith's heart. His society became her most exquisite enjoyment. They read, they talked, they sang together; his musical talents were considerable; and he read with sensibility and spirit.

Her mother too, in whose mind not one speculative thought of their marriage had been raised by his prospect of riches, was led before the end of a week to expect it; and secretly to congratulate herself on having gained two such sons-in-law as Matthew and Gregson.

Colonel Strallan's partiality for Edith, which had so early been discovered by his friends, now finally became perceptible to Mary, when it ceased to be noticed by anyone else. Their attention and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate rival. Mary was obliged to believe that he did indeed have a sincere regard for her sister; and despite their general resemblance, Mr. Gregson's attributes outshone those of Colonel Strallan. She saw it with concern; for what could a quiet man of five and thirty hope, when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty? As she could not even wish him success, she heartily wished him indifferent and painless. She liked him—in spite of his quietness. His manners were mild; and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits, some old wound, rather than of any natural gloominess of temper. Sir Charles had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments, which justified her belief, and she regarded him with respect and compassion.

Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted by Gregson and Edith, who, prejudiced against him for being neither lively nor young, seemed resolved to undervalue his merits.

"Strallan is just the kind of man," said Gregson one day, when they were talking of him together, "whom every body speaks well of, and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to." Edith nodded.

"Do not boast of it, however," said Mary, "for it is injustice in both of you. He is highly esteemed by all, and I never see him myself without taking pains to converse with him."

"That he is patronised by YOU," replied Gregson, "is certainly in his favour; but as for the esteem of the others, it is a reproach in itself. Who would submit to the indignity of being approved by such a woman as Mrs. Jennings, that could command the indifference of any body else?"

"Is that not prejudiced and unjust?"

"In defence of your protégé you can even be saucy."

"My protégé, as you call him, is a sensible man; and sense will always have attractions for me. Yes, Edith, even in a man between thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of the world; has been abroad, has read, and has a thinking mind. I have found him capable of giving me much information on various subjects; and he has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good-breeding and good nature."

"Perhaps," said Gregson, "his observations may have extended to the existence of nabobs, gold mohrs, and palanquins."

"I may venture to say that HIS observations have stretched much further than your candour. But why should you dislike him?"

"I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man, who has every body's good word, and nobody's notice."

Replied Mary, "I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man, well-bred, well-informed, of gentle address, and, I believe, possessing an amiable heart."

"Miss Crawley," cried Gregson, "I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel Strallan; he threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine; he has found fault with the hanging of my curricle, and I cannot persuade him to buy my brown mare. You cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him as much as ever."

* * *

.

When Edith was fully recovered, the schemes of amusement which Sir Charles had been previously forming were put into execution. Balls at the park then began; and parties on the water were made. In every meeting Gregson was included; these parties were calculated to give increasing intimacy to his acquaintance with the Crawleys, and especially with Edith.

Mary could not be surprised at their attachment. She only wished that it were less openly shown; but Edith abhorred all concealment. Gregson thought the same; and their behaviour at all times, was an illustration of their opinions.

When he was present she had no eyes for any one else. Every thing he did, was right. Mrs. Crawley approved all their feelings. This was the season of happiness to Edith. Her heart was devoted to Gregson.

Mary's happiness was not so great. Neither Lady Carson nor Mrs. Jennings could supply to her the conversation she missed. In Colonel Strallan alone, of all her new acquaintance, did Mary find a person who could claim her respect, excite the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a companion. Gregson was out of the question. Her admiration and regard, even her sisterly regard, was all his own; but he was a lover; his attentions were wholly Edith's, and a far less agreeable man might have been more generally pleasing. Colonel Strallan, unfortunately for himself, had no such encouragement to think only of Edith, and in conversing with Mary he found the greatest consolation for the indifference of her sister.

Mary's compassion for him increased, as she had reason to suspect that the misery of disappointed love had already been known to him. This suspicion was given some credence by words which accidently dropped from him one evening, while the others were dancing. His eyes were fixed on Edith, and, after a silence of some minutes, he said, with a faint smile, "Your sister, I understand, does not approve of second attachments."

"No," replied Mary, "her opinions are all romantic."

"Or rather, as I believe, she considers them impossible to exist."

"I believe she does. But how she contrives it without reflecting on the character of her own father, who had himself two wives, I know not. A few years will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis of common sense and observation."

"This will probably be the case," he replied; "and yet there is something so amiable in the innocence of a young mind, that one is sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions."

"I cannot agree with you there," said Mary. "There are inconveniences attending such feelings as Edith's, which all the charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone for. She sets propriety at nought; and a better acquaintance with the world is what I look forward to as her greatest possible advantage."

After a short pause he resumed the conversation by saying,—

"No," said he, "no, do not desire it! I once knew a lady who in temper and mind greatly resembled your sister, who thought and judged like her, but who from an enforced change—from a series of unfortunate circumstances"— Here he stopped suddenly; appeared to think that he had said too much, and by his countenance gave rise to conjectures, which might not otherwise have entered Mary's head. The lady would probably have passed without suspicion, had he not convinced Miss Crawley that what concerned her ought not to escape his lips. As it was, it required but a slight effort of fancy to connect his emotion with the tender recollection of past regard.

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_**Thank you all again for following and reading - there will be more Sybil/Tom in the next chapter, and more Mary/Matthew in the chapter after that.  
**_


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